Hello everyone. It’s your favorite time of the month.

No, guys it’s not “blow job week” (or the less exciting way women refer to it: our periods). It’s story time! A time where you can hear all about the mishaps and embarrassing moments of my life so you can feel better about yours…

A couple of years back my best friend since the 6th grade (Rima) was getting married to her long time boyfriend Anthony, and of course I was a shoe in for the maid of honor slot because I know all of her secrets. In case you guys didn’t know, women determine who is their best friend by how much dirt they have on them. The more beans you spill, the closer you two are. If they know about the time you shit your pants in Cabo, best friends forever!

I was pretty excited since being a maid of honor seems to hold a special title in the girl universe. For whatever reason, it makes you feel super, mega, ultra important. Being chosen basically just reiterated what I already knew…I’m kind of a big deal.

Months leading up to the big day she kept saying how she doesn’t want to do all the things most people expect at a wedding since they are so cheesy…no daddy/daughter dance…no gross, overtly sexual garter removal display…and most of all, no speeches. I thought this was her best idea to date…although we did used to drink Boone’s Farm by the case full so there’s really no telling…

Well, as luck would have it, the day before the wedding at the flipping rehearsal dinner, her future brother in law/best man mentions how his speech is going to knock it out of the park. Speech? What!? Did he not get the memo? She told me he insisted on giving one, but I didn’t need to feel obligated. At this point I had two options, write a speech in half a day, or not give one and look like an asshole. Well jokes on me since I wrote one and still ended up looking like the biggest asshole of all time anyway.

I thought of what I wanted to say, I but didn’t write it out. I was not going to get up there and read from a piece of paper like I hardly knew the couple. This was my best friend so whatever I said would come straight from the heart…

And here is the masterpiece my stupid heart produced…

“Rima is my best friend and has been since the 6th grade. Growing up we would play a game called, “If you, me, and insert random boyfriend at the time’s name here, were on a ship in the middle of the ocean, and it began to sink but you could only save one of us…who would it be?”

Now this game had played hundreds, um I mean, less than ten times over the years (sorry for the confusion there Anthony), and the answer was always each other. I remember I even asked her when you two first started dating, and sorry to say…you did not survive the boat catastrophe of 2003.

Once you two got engaged, I asked her the very same question. I was waiting for the typical response when Rima said, for the first time, “I would save you both.” I responded quickly. “Whoa, whoa…are you Superman? You can’t carry the two of us to shore. I just ate a really large lunch too. You can literally just save one of us.”

She claimed she would summon two dolphins, put each of us on one of their backs and have them ride us safely to shore. Wait, now she is Aqua man? Did I miss something?

The scenarios continued on, and each one got more ridiculous than the last. I finally cut her off and said, “Alright. All sea life companions, cruise ships, and submarine rescues aside…you can only save one. Who is it going to be?

I will never forget when she looked at me and somberly said, “Then I would have to kill myself.”

This was the moment I realized Anthony was no longer an “insert random boyfriend’s name here” but rather her soul mate. It was also the moment I realized I need to invest in a life jacket…

I truly am so happy you two found each other, and Anthony, you make my best friend so happy that if the three of us were ever on a sinking ship, arguing over who gets left behind, I would gladly go down for you any day.”

Every woman reading this probably just did what every woman in the room did…let out a simultaneous “Awwwww.” Every man who just read this probably wants to do what all the dudes at the wedding did…high-five the groom. Even the teary eyed bride was clueless until her hubby pointed out that their wedding night could get a lot more interesting now that I wanted to go down on him.

For the record, I did say for you, not on you, but to a man there really is no difference.

So there you have it.

Ladies, the next time you fart in front of a guy (or fellows, the next time you um, let’s say, have a premature evacuation) just remember, it’s not that bad. At least you didn’t accidentally make a fellatio reference at a crowded formal event.

Cheers!